We usually think of getting older at times that mark those days that just verify we are indeed older.  Like birthdays.  And too, I think the New Year is a time for reflection as we come off a New Year’s Eve that was remarkable only in that you fell asleep at 11:45 p.m. with no alcoholic assistance whatsoever.

What happened to the good old days?  The why are my clothes inside out and whose lampshade is this days?

It seems that it is natural in the course of life that when you get to the point where you remember what you did on New Year’s eve for 4 or more years in a row, you start reflecting on getting older. Am I close?

My family makes great fun of getting older.  Big surprise.  My family makes fun of everything.  Cards, jokes, jabs… stainless steel bowls.  It doesn’t end because someone is always getting older.  And I start thinking well, it could be worse, I’m not getting old as fast as my brother (who is only 10 months older to begin with) I mean he will always be older than me.

Really right now, I am not too bothered by being older..getting older. And if things keep going the way they are, my generation will be perpetually 20.   40 is the new 20 I hear. Well Id rather be 40 than 20 but maybe when 50 is 20 I’ll be cool with that.

We have a saying that I hear my mother and grandmother say quite often.  Once or twice a year I think – no more than that  Anyways,  it’s something like…or it is…  Growing old isn’t for sissies, but it sure beats the alternative.  

Well I’m not a sissy. I’d like to think anyways.  And if it turns out I am, I will sure as hell fake it because it IS better than the alternative hands down-As much aplomb as I can muster for the aging process, there are 10 things that scare the crapola out of me when it comes to getting old.  If I can avoid them I think I will be a helluva cool old woman one day.

•   Losing my mind, forgetting people places and things.  dates and what I ate for breakfast but still being aware enough to know it’s happening.  I am considering a lobotomy just to get it over with.
• Diapers.  Unless I have successfully achieved the oblivion sought in the above.  Then I probably won’t care. If I do, I won’t remember it.
• Bitter Beer face.  It’s not a given that your teeth will last as long a the rest of you.  If the rate I am going is any indication I might be without teeth longer than I had them.

  

• Being right there at the brink between the living and the not...and realizing that I didn’t get my 15 minutes of fame.  Or worse that I missed it completely.   Like it happened when I was either doing something else, drunk or occupied some other way.  I mean what if it was over some picture that got texted or posted on the internet without my knowledge and I didn’t even realize I was famous?  If that is the case then I am sure at the time,  I would have been blissful to be ignorant of such a thing but there on the edge of death’s door, I would be mad as hell to leave this earth and not know…
• Making a  miraculous recovery, as the elderly sometimes do, and deciding to get my 15 minutes of fame… by streaking in the dining room of the old folk’s home or something.  They sure as hell wouldn’t forget me then huh?  I would then be a legend in my own mind and theirs too – for at least 15 minutes. I am not absolutely sure I should count this as a fear though.
• Outliving my husband by 50 years.  The women in my family have outlived the menfolk, which is I guess normal but they also live to an old age.  My Nana lived 50 years plus after her husband passed away and never remarried.  My Grandmother, Nana’s daughter has lived going on 8 years since my Grandfather passed away,  defying medical possibility – really.  She misses him and I think my Nana missed her husband everyday and just expected she would be with him again.  Just not 50 + years later.  I could be wrong but man how …lonely?   Now the probability of this happening to me is pretty slim since I don’t have a husband and I am already in my 40’s.  Just saying IF,  I would have to  meet, date, introduce to the Gaggle, break up with and get back together, move in with and marry in at the most 2 years… Then if he croaked right after the wedding I might end up living to the age of 95 alone.  That would totally suck.
• IF that all were to transpire, my next fear would be meeting an old flame at some reunion or tour of an old folk’s home and then having a relationship that was akin to Ground Hog day… long distance. On the landline.  The same thing over and over because both of our brains were mush and we forgot that we talked about the same thing and hour ago.  I have seen this kind of relationship first hand and it’s not pretty.  It was humorous at first but really, how long can two people go on like that and what  for?
• As I grow older I don’t realize that my wardrobe is getting

  

  younger.  I am not going to have to worry about my boobs hanging to my knees but I surely don’t want to lose touch with reality so much that I try to hang on to my youth by dressing like a shameless teeny bopper hussy.  You have seen them.  Denim mini skirts, tank tops no bra with the evidence of such peeking out below, big teased dyed hair, lots of make up and jewelry and perfume.  Don’t forget the tattoos, acquired at the young age of 76. On places that shouldn’t even be exposed at 76.  And heels that would have a 20 yo shaking in fear.  I don’t know though.  If they re obviously happy and unaware then who is to say it’s not ok.?  I just don’t resemble that at all now, so I don’t want to morph into it.  And  oh my please don’t let me be trying to pick up the young studs.  I have seen that and I just feel the embarrassment for the whole situation.  I just want to be realistic about where I am at and what I can pull off without the grandkids giggling behind my back and refusing to take me out.  I don’t want to be the silly

  

  senior slut.    After 80 who gives a flying crap.  I am not going to wear purple when I am an old woman, I am going to be nude, just please please let me behave until then.

• Not having at least one grandchild that adores me so much that they come break me out of the home or nudist colony, or whatever digs I happen to be committed to uh enjoying,  every once in a while or agrees with me when I say I should have my driver’s license and where the hell is my car.  I am thinking I might be having a gaggle gaggle of grandkids… I just want one to adore me that much that they just agree with everything a crazy old woman says.
• Being alone.  In the dark.  With a bunch of cats.

There you have it folks.  I am taking this whole getting older thing pretty well I think.  Of course I am still in a good place.  I am guessing by the way my body is starting to rebel and how my mind is going a little wonkier than usual, that this is the pinnacle of life I am at and it is all downhill from here – ok from maybe like… 48.  SO I have a few more years before I get over the hump.

And maybe by then 50 will be the new 20.  YA never know and one can only hope.

It beats kicking and screaming the whole way like a first rate sissy…and sure as hell beats the alternative!!